The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1887-12-21
A Surgeons Life.

have always held that it is impos.
sible for any man to he agreat surgeon
if he is destitute, even in an inconsid'
erable degree, of the finer feelings ,oI
our nature. L have often lain awake
for hours Of the night before an impor'
tant operation, and suffered great men
tai distress for days after it was over,
until l was certain that my patient
was out of danger. / do not think it
is possible for a criminal to feel much
worse the night before his execution
than q surgeon when he knows that
upon his skill and attention must de-
pend the fate of valuable citizen,
husband, father, mother, or child.
Surgery under such circumstances is a
terrible task-master, feeding like a
vulture upon mans vitals. 1t is sur
prising that any surgeon in large prac-
tice should ever attain to respectable
old age, so great are the wear and tear
of mind and body.
The world has seen many sad pic
ture. Twill draw one of the surgeon.
1t is midday, the sun is bright and
beautiful, all nature is redolent of joy,
men and women crowd the street, ar
rayed, in their best, and all, apparent
ly, is peace and happiness within and
without. In q large house, almost
Ioverhanging this street so full OF life
and gayety, lies upon couch an ema,
ciated figure; once one of the sweetest
and loveliest of her sex, confiding
and affectionate wife and the adored
mother of numerous children, the sub
iect of a frightful disease of one of her
limbs, or it may be of her jaw, if not
of still more important part OF her
body. In an adjourning room is the
surgeon, with his assistants, spreading
out his instruments and getting things
in readiness for the impending opera
ton. He assigns to each his approprl-
ate place One administers cilloro-
form; another takes charge of the
limb; one screws down the tourniquet
upon the principal artery, and another
holds himself in readiness to follow
the knife with his sponge. The flaps
are soon formed, the bone severed, the
vessels tied, and the huge wound ap--
proXimated. The woman is pale and
ghastly, the pulse hardly perceptible,
the skin wet with clammy perspira-
ton, the voice husky, the sight indis-
tinct. Some one whispers into the ear
of the busy surgeon: 1.-THE patient, l
fear, is dying" Restoratives are adj
ministered, the pulse gradually rises,
and after a few hours Of hard work
and terrible anxiety reaction occurs.
The Door woman was only faint from
the Joint influence of the anasthetic,
shock. and loss of blood. An assist
ant, a kind of sentinel, is placed as q
guard over her, with instructions to
watch her with the closest care, and to
send word the moment the slightest
change for the worse Is seen.
The surgeon goes about his business,
visits other patients on the way, and
at length, long after the usual hour, he
sits down, worried and exhausted, TO
his cold and comfortless meal, with a
mouth almost as dry and q voice as
husky as his patients. He eats me,
chanically, exchanges hardly a WORD
with any member of his family, ana
sullenly retires to his study to pre-
scribe for his patients-never, during
all this time, forgetting the poor, mu-
tilated object he left few hours ago.
He is about to lie down to get a mo-
ment's repose after the severe toll OF
the day, when suddenly he hears a
loud ring of the bell, and a servant,
breathless with excitement, begs his
immediate presence at the sick-cham-
ber with the exclamation, "Ihey
think Mrs. - is dying" He hur--
ries to the scene with rapid pace and
anxious feeling. The stump is of O
crimson color, and the patient lies in a
profound swoon. An artery has sud
denly given way, the exhaustion is
extreme, cordials and stimulants are
at once brought into requisition, the
dressings are removed, and the recus-
ant vessel is secured.
The vital current ebbs and flows, re-
action is still more tardy than before,
and it is not until late hour of the
night that the surgeon, literally worn
out in mind and body, retires to his
home in search Of repose. Does he
sleep? He tries, but he cannot close
his ewes. His mind is with his pa
tient: he hears every footstep upon
the pavement under his window, and
is in momentary expectation of the
ringing of the night-bell. He is dis
turbed by the widest fancies, he sees
the most terrific objects, and, as he
rises early in the morning to hasten to
his patients chamber, he feels that he
has been cheated of the rest of which
he stood so much in need. Is this pic
ture overdrawn? I have sat for it a
thousand times, and there is not an
educated, conscientious surgeon that
will not certify to its accuracy.
BILL NYE's FAvoRITE LITERA-
TURE.-In prose, 1 think I derive
more comfort from Herbert Spencer
than any one else. AS Mr.. Lincoln,
during the dark and trying days of our
great civil war, turned to the light and
| Joyous comments Of Petroleum v.
| Nasby, so flee from my own earnest
and profound research to the dry, crisp
humor Of Spencer, and more especial
ly to that passage in which he charac-
terizes evolution as "a change from an
indefinite, incoherent htterogentily
through continuous difterentiations
and integrations."
never get tired Of putting damp
towel over my head and reading this
passage, for it enables me to forget
everything else.
Take history through and through.
and it will be found that the men and
women who have the most deyoutly
and honestly feared God have done
most to defend and save the countries
| in which thew lived,